


The Girl Who Saved Lives

by leydileyla



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble, Drinking, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Light Angst, No Smut, POV Female Character, POV Harry Potter, Partying, Post-War, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Short One Shot, Touch-Starved Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28749573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leydileyla/pseuds/leydileyla
Summary: Harry Potter feels  pulled towards you like the moon pulls the tide. A Harry Potter X Reader One-Shot.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Reader
Kudos: 25





	The Girl Who Saved Lives

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a request from my Tumblr.(@leydileyla). The person asked for a touch starved Harry, envying Y/N because she was so affectionate with everyone around her, but not him. So this is what came out. Hope you enjoy, this is the first work I have posted on here!

He watched you from afar, watched you laugh with your friends. Carelessly, and oh so lively. The mood around you lifting. You were the one who was lifting it. Lifting it with the beautiful sound of your laughter. Everyone adored you. You were a spark of joy amonst the walls of the old, regal castle. Your youth contrasting the heavy, ancient air the building bore.

Harry loved watching you. Boldly at times, not caring who would catch his glances, timidly at times, scared, that anyone else would notice. He had never even talked to you, yet you pulled him in, like the moon pulled the tide. The Boy who faced You-Know-Who, not being able to talk to a girl. The girl who made him intrigued like no other person ever had.

“Bloody hell Harry, you should stop staring, it’s weird,” Ron’s voice shaked him out of his trance, bringing him back to the ground, from where he was. Uplifted by your laughter.

“I know, I know. I just, can’t help myself,” the Boy Who Lived answered his best friend. And he really couldn’t. His curiosity he had towards you, could not be aided. The pull he felt, could never be apprehended. Harry watched her, as she cradled a friend within her arms, and wished he was in that girl’s place. Wanting to feel safe and wanted, for the war left scars and the scars kept bleeding. Scars that could not be seen, but could be felt. Within the darkest times, when he was alone. Scars that demanded tending, the attention that he could not always provide. He wished he was in your arms, readying himself to be healed. To forget what had ever happened, and whatever will.

~

He watched, carefully, studying the flow of your movement. The way you held your glass, the Pinot Grigio you were drinking moving elegantly in the crystal glass you were grasping, making him want to grasp on to life, much more dearly. The way you touched the boy’s arm, the boy who was standing next to you, demanding your attention, your mindfulness and your consciousness. The boy who selfishly stole you away from the room, making the room you were standing in feel left out from your rejoice and felicity. The room which was your Common Room. A small party, held between the last year students. The students who all held scars, the scars that kept hurting. Keeping you all from feeling fully alive. You made him feel alive again, made him fill with joy and euphoria, and he hadn’t even spoken to you yet.

He downed the drink he had in his glass, wanting to forget. Wanting to not feel the emotions that were building up deep within, creeping their way back up, escaping from were they were hiding. Harry couldn’t preserve the act he had on, the act of being held together. So he left his friends, wanting to breathe, telling them he would be back. Not knowing if he would. He needed to run away from the storm you were causing in his body, the storm that made the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, seem merely like a warm, pleasant day in October. He exited your Common Room, not knowing where he would go, not knowing where his mind would lead him, rushing through the corridors, as his steps made loud noises in the dark of the night. And that was when the boy with unruly black hair, heard you.

“Harry!” He froze when he heard his name slip from your lips. The name he had heard countless times throughout his lifetime. He felt like his name was cherished, now that he had heard it come from you.

“You know my name?” He said as he turned to look at you,

“Everyone knows your name,” a confused smile flickered on your lips as your steps carried on, until you were standing right in front of him, in the middle of a corridor.

“I forget that sometimes,” he replied as he shifted his weight. You furrowed your brows, examining him closely,

“Are you okay? I saw you leave the party and I was, worried.” You simply said, genuinely feeling worried for the boy. He was petrified, not knowing what to say and what to do. So you held his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Wanting to erase the boy’s suffering. Affection came easy to you. Deep down, you believed, that touch was the key to communication, words only helped you so far. He held his breath, intently watching your hand as it was wrapped around his.

“I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, and needed to breathe,” he finally answered, when he found the will power to break his gaze from your hands.

“May I join you?” You blinked, asking the question as though it was the most natural thing to do. You could see this surprised him, not quite sure as to why. He was the Boy Who Lived. The boy who lived through all sorts of pain and suffering, as you watched from afar.

“Of course,” was all he could pronounce, taking your hand, slightly pulling at it, so you could walk side by side. He always thought walking by your side, would feel like agony. The thought of walking with you, but not seeing you, disturbing him. But it was not full of pain, it was bliss. The hands that hung between you, creating a bridge, a bridge of communication and expression. He couldn’t believe he was with you, he couldn’t believe how you had noticed him leaving the party and couldn’t understand why you would follow him. His mind, occupied by your touch. The simple touch of another human being, that he craved so much.

You walked with him, in pure silence. Not needing to speak a word. Not meaning to jumble up your thoughts by a few letters that came together to create meaning. You both felt there was so much more than words as you walked, hand in hand.

Harry knew, after that night, that he wanted you, he ached for you. He knew you were the one. The Girl Who Saved Lives. The girl who saved his, by taking his hand and sharing the silence with him, on a drunken, misty night.


End file.
